


Blue Tranquilium

by schemingreader



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Drugs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-12
Updated: 2007-01-25
Packaged: 2017-10-07 03:08:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schemingreader/pseuds/schemingreader
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After his acquittal by the Wizengamot, Snape has a panic attack. Harry treats it with a medicinal potion that Snape has around the house, but it has some side effects.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Blue Tranquilium

**Author's Note:**

> Brit-picked by a squicked [](http://maelipstick.livejournal.com/profile)[**maelipstick**](http://maelipstick.livejournal.com/) and beta-read by [](http://rexluscus.livejournal.com/profile)[**rexluscus**](http://rexluscus.livejournal.com/).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After his acquittal by the Wizengamot, Snape has a panic attack. Harry treats it with a medicinal potion that Snape has around the house, but it has some side effects.

  
**Blue Tranquilium**  
by

Schemingreader

 

Harry supposed that it wasn't surprising that Snape was having a panic attack after his Wizengamot trial. It was only to be expected. The peculiar thing was that, he, Harry, was stuck taking care of the hyperventilating older man. How did he get to be responsible for Snape?

His testimony had cleared Snape of the charge of murdering Dumbledore. It was the least he could do for the man who had stood between him and Voldemort's curses. The least he could do for the man who had come out of hiding, finally, to stand trial. The least he could do for the man who had taken the fall for Harry's involuntary manslaughter of Dumbledore with the potion in the cave; he owed Snape.

But that didn't mean he had to like him.

Snape was still the same ugly old wanker, still glaring at Harry with the same intensity as always. _God, why does he hate me so much?_ Harry wondered to himself. _It's his fault that I thought he killed Dumbledore, how was I supposed to know what was going on?_

They had Apparated away from the Ministry after the end of the trial. As the two men stumbled into Snape's house at Spinner's End, Snape was gasping and pale.

"Professor Snape, are you all right?" Harry asked.

"Must be some kind of hex, Potter, I can't breathe and my heart is racing!"

"Is there a pain in your chest? Does your arm hurt?" Harry was fairly sure that Snape wasn't having a heart attack, but his apprenticeship with Madame Pomfrey taught him to ask that. Always rule out the most life-threatening illness first, and then the most obvious.

"No, Potter, I'm not having heart attack," Snape sneered. Then he looked worried. "Am I? You're right! My heart is going a mile a minute. Christ! I have to sit down. I'm ... am I going to die?"

"I think you're having a panic attack, Snape."

"Is that--what is that? Oh God." He looked paler even than usual, almost green.

"Do you feel queasy?" Harry asked. He was ticking off symptoms in his head.

"I don't feel my hands! I don't feel my body!"

"Dissociation..."

"This is...this has to be a hex, Potter. Do something!"

"_Finite incantatem_," Harry intoned. Snape collapsed on a kitchen chair.

"Do you feel better?" Harry asked. Snape managed to look sarcastic, in spite of his apparent distress. "All right then, where do you keep medicinal potions?"

Snape waved his hands to the cabinet over the kitchen sink, and Harry got up to rummage through it.

"This looks like the Blue Tranquilium potion that Madame Pomfrey uses. The label is peeling but it seems to have the same ingredients." Harry used a spell to test the potion, to make sure that the label really matched the contents.

"I don't need a potion. You mean that blue liquid? That's...it's mainly tincture of valerian. I made that twenty years ago. It was actually for..." Snape trailed off, gasping and hyperventilating again.

"Well, it seems according to the label you made to be the same stuff that Pomfrey had us give. I think you should take some, if it is."

"All...all right." It seemed to be a measure of how sick Snape felt that he was willing to take the potion.

Harry poured some out into a glass and helped Severus drink it.

"You're very cold, maybe in shock. I think you should have a bit of a lie down. You need to be covered up and kept warm. I can make tea."

Severus' hands were shaking as he poured himself a second full glass of the potion.

"Are you sure you should have that much of that stuff?" Harry asked. "Isn't the dosage by body mass? You aren't very large."

Severus giggled shakily and waved a long hand. He looked vaguely about him. "I can't believe I'm alive, Potter. I was ready to die."

"Come on, Snape, I'm going to get you up the stairs and into bed. Come on, up you get!"

Harry draped one of Snape's long pinions over his shoulder and began to walk him up the stairs. Snape's hair, freshly washed that morning for the trial, hung lank in his face, obscuring his expression. They lurched up the short flight of steps. Snape was just barely helping carry himself.

"All right!" Harry didn't want to fling him down on the bed, but he was finding Snape surprisingly heavy. He supposed that Snape wasn't the sort to be able to float if you took him for a swim.

He staggered across the room with his old teacher. It was like dancing with a huge vulture. Harry sat down on the bed, bringing Snape down to earth next to him.

"Good, now I'll get you under the covers. No need to disrobe, it's just for warmth."

He swung each leg up onto the bed and put a pillow under the unprotesting head. He took off each of Snape's shoes and pulled the blankets over him, sitting down next to him on the bed to tuck him in.

Snape had begun giggling to himself and didn't seem to be able to stop. Since Harry had never heard him laugh at all, much less giggle, it was a bit unnerving.

"You might have taken too much of that potion," Harry said tentatively.

"Oh, do you think so, Potter?" Severus said slowly, and laughed some more. He didn't sound as sarcastic as usual; he was too relaxed. He looked up at Harry and blinked. Then he reached out, grabbed Harry by the shoulders and pulled Harry's face toward his.

Harry made a sound that was embarrassingly like a squeak.

"Hmmmm," Snape hummed sleepily. Then he kissed Harry's face. His lips were open, warm and wet. It was sloppy. He kissed all along Harry's hairline, his hands grasping the other man's shoulders loosely.

"Hmm, hmmm, hmmm," Snape hummed to himself.

"Snape, you clearly...you aren't yourself," Harry choked out. Snape was wearing a very pleasant-smelling aftershave potion.

"Then who am I, hmmm?" Snape said, and snorted. He looked Harry in the eyes, sleepily. "Aw," he said softly, but didn't complete the thought. He kissed Harry's scar.

"God, don't..." Harry said. Snape's thin lips were very warm and it was actually kind of wonderful to be kissed on the forehead that way. After all those years of headaches, he realized, no one ever kissed him on the forehead.

"S'all right, Harry Potter. Harry Bloody Potter. Harry Bloody Well Right Potter," Severus said. Then he laughed a little more. He put his arms all the way around Harry and hugged, pulling Harry down on top of him. "I've got you now. You'll be fine now, little Harry."

"Little Harry?" Harry repeated incredulously. He was struggling to get up, but trying not to be too obvious about it.

"You aren't little anymore though, are you? You've got tall," Severus said, beaming. "You've grown up, little Harry Bloody Well Potter, and now you're bloody well bloody well."

He kissed Harry some more, even wetter this time. After a moment Harry realized that Snape was just licking him everywhere he could reach. He was even licking Harry's hair, and his shirt. Harry was torn between contradictory urges: his bubbling, suppressed laughter, his desire to flee, and his sexual arousal.

"You've got a stiffy now, haven't you," Snape crooned. "S'all right! Don' worry! So've I, I have one too!"

He began to grind his hips, so that his erection brushed against Harry's through their clothing.

"Benzos! You gave me 'benzos, little Potter boy. What fresh new...benzos. I like benzos. You aren't a little boy anymore though."

"No," Harry choked.

"No, you aren't little at all," Severus smirked. He reached down between them and stroked Harry's cock through the straining fabric of his trousers. "Not little at all," Severus said again, and laughed to himself some more. "Don't get up," he said, as Harry struggled to get out of the embrace. "I was ready to die for you if I had to, you little prat. Pretty little prat. But instead it was the little rat that died for the pretty prat. I wished it had been me. But not now, because of the lovely drug..."

"What do you mean, benzos?"

"I mean that I made a potion that fakes the effects of benzodiazepines. Like valium or xanax, Potter. Relaxing! Euphoric!"

"Is that what I gave you?"

"You were right that it was tranquilising, I've never felt so tranquil in all my life." Snape giggled to himself some more. He was rubbing Harry's back in circles, his hand going lower and lower. "I only took it once. I must have lost some weight since then. Or drugs tolerance, or something."

"You made the potion...to get high?"

Snape's laugh was full-throated. "Says the son of James 'Dr. J' Potter, the bloke who introduced cannabis to Hogwarts!"

"I never knew him though," Harry muttered, trying to get up. But Snape was still holding him tightly about the waist.

"Poor Potter, you've been trying to tell me that for the last fifteen years." Snape was still smiling, and it still looked very wrong on his face. Harry propped himself on one elbow. Snape was looking up at him with utter benevolence, and Harry flushed with pleasure. Had he really craved this awful man's good opinion? He felt something more satisfying than sex, finally seeing that approval from his old teacher.

Though perhaps what Snape was approving was sexual.

Harry _was_ hard. Snape's hands had warmed up and were still playing with the muscles in his back, kneading down to his gluteus. Snape was kneading Harry's buttocks, pushing their erections together.

"Harry Potter, will you fuck me, Harry Potter," Snape sang under his breath to some unknown old tune. "Will you fuck me till I splatter, 'cos it really doesn't matter, Harry Potter, Harry Poofter, on the roof..."

"Snape, Professor Snape, I can't...take advantage...perhaps..."

"The flesh is willing, even if the spirit is weak." Snape began kissing down Harry's body, twisting under him to stick his face into Harry's neck. He licked Harry's collarbone and down the younger man's sternum where his shirt was open. He was relentless, if sleepy.

Harry wasn't sure what to do. His body was responding; Snape's lack of inhibition was contagious, and Harry didn't feel as panicky as he sometimes did, getting close to another person.

The problem wasn't being _close_ he admitted to himself. Being close didn't make him freeze up; it was being sexual.

But he couldn't help it, just now. Snape was all over him, and couldn't control himself because of the potion, and it wasn't as though there would ever be a repeat of this. He didn't have much of a relationship with the man to risk.

"Potter," Snape said in a rumbly voice, "stop worrying so much, Potter, and live up to your impetuous repute-- reputation." He was unbuttoning Harry's shirt, but it was taking him awhile to figure out the buttons, and longer because he insisted on licking any skin he had exposed. He undid the cuff of one sleeve, and began to lick up Harry's arm from the wrist.

Harry exhaled, a little grunt, as Snape's tongue made its slow wet way up his inner forearm into the inside of his elbow.

"You get under the blankets too, Pooter me Potter me lad." Severus slurred. He undid the other cuff and tried to pull the shirt off. "Can't you help me, boy?"

Harry took off his shirt and then his vest, for good measure, and with a sort of shrug to himself, slid under the blankets next to Snape. Snape was all over him immediately, sniffing his chest hair, and licking one of his nipples. "Mmmm," he hummed. He slid a hand into Harry's trousers, and began to fondle him. Harry reached down to unbutton his flies, because it was too tight, and Snape sighed.

Snape knew a lot about male bodies, Harry decided. He had never been touched this way before. Well, he hadn't let very many people touch him at all, before. Two, and they were both girls. Women. God, was it supposed to feel that good when someone stroked that part between your balls and your anus? God!

Now Snape was rolling Harry's balls in his large, warm palm. It wasn't too gentle or too rough.

Then Snape took Harry's cock in his mouth. He was still humming. Harry felt his eyes roll up in his head. Snape sucked on Harry like he really, really liked it. He was humping the mattress.

"Snape! Uh! I'm going to...I'm going to come!" Harry gasped. Snape grabbed Harry's arse and held on, cramming his cock further into the hot mouth, and Harry shattered into a million pieces, groaning.

From below his waist he could hear Snape's satisfied slurping. Harry twitched.

Finally he surfaced, looking delighted with himself. That was also an expression that Harry hadn't seen before, he reflected hazily. Snape put his arms around Harry and kissed his mouth.

"Hmmm, wonderful," Snape murmured. "And you're still hard. That's wonderful."

Harry blushed again. Snape was kissing his jaw and saying, "Wonderful, just wonderful, wonderful, wonderful."

"I like you this way," Harry said to himself.

"Hmmmm? Which way is that? High as a kite? Gagging for it?" There was only a shade of the old resentment in Snape's voice; he mainly sounded amused.

"No. Happy, and...you like me."

Snape started laughing again. He stopped, and started to say something, and then laughed some more. "No, why not? Why ruin everything with some remark, eh? I'll come down eventually, and then I can be an arsehole again. In the meantime, let's fuck, eh? Let's fuck. Come on Harry. Let's fuck, let's fuck..."

He was singing it, nuzzling Harry, sniffing, humming, still obviously so high and happy. Harry started laughing, too. He couldn't help it.

"Laughing at me?" Snape said, looking very sad all of a sudden.

"No," Harry said, seriously.

"No, you aren't laughing, or no not at me?"

"I'm laughing, but not at you."

"Laughing with me. Or laughing near me. Or sneer me. Heh."

Harry laughed some more. "Was this what you were really like all along?"

"No, I'm actually an uptight bastard. Why do you think I made that potion?"

"What do you mean, for panic attacks?"

"I mean, so that I could enjoy a little slap and tickle like the next fellow. Back when I was in my twenties, I mean, before I got back into the double agent business."

"I guess I'm not the next fellow, because...because I've never..."

"It's all right, everything will be fine. You'll see."

_Is this really Snape?_ Harry wondered. But Snape was kissing him on the mouth this time, sloppy, wet, almost just licking his mouth, licking, tongue, and Harry was panting, overwhelmed.

"Need a wand, where is it...." Snape muttered.

Harry summoned his wand and handed it to him. Snape furrowed his brow. Their clothing disappeared.

"Non-verbal spells have the advantage of surprise," Harry said smiling, and Snape began to rut against him.

Then he said, "Now, what was it again...ooooh..." There was a tingle of magic, but Harry didn't know what the spell was.

"What did you just do?"

"Sex charm. For lubrication. It's not like with women, you know. It doesn't just get all slippery when you want to fuck."

"I...wouldn't know. Never got that far."

"Good, more for me," Snape said nonsensically. "More for me, more for me..." and he writhed against Harry, skin to skin.

Then Snape turned away from Harry, pulling Harry's arms around him. He turned Harry's hands, palms down, against his chest and began to rub them over his nipples. Snape wiggled his arse against Harry's burgeoning erection.

"Just slide it right on in there, go slow, right?"

Harry parted the cheeks of the arse that was rubbing against him. He did not know what he was doing, at all. He rubbed his finger in the crack, and found the small puckered hole.

"How the hell is my prick going to fit in there?" he wondered under his breath.

Snape grabbed Harry's cock from behind and rubbed the head along the crack of his arse, and then somehow pushed back. The head of Harry's penis popped in.

"Push in slow, that's right Potter, slow, tease me, stretch me, slow..." His deep and quiet voice sounded so different giving instructions in bed than it did in the classroom.

Somehow Snape had got up onto all fours and Harry was holding onto his hips and yeah, pushing, pushing into that tight, hot, smooth place. He pushed as slowly as he could, until he was all the way inside. He didn't move for a moment.

"Does it hurt?" he whispered.

"No," Severus whispered back, "why are you whispering? I know you have your cock in my arse."

"Uh," Harry grunted, a huff of laughter and arousal, and gave a little involuntary thrust with his hips.

"That's it, fuck me, that's it..."

Even though he had only just come, Harry didn't think he would last long. The feeling of being squeezed in a tight embrace, the heat and slickness, and Snape's groans of pleasure were too much.

"Snape, I...oh..."

"Severus, my name is Severus. Say it," Snape gasped.

"Se—Severus..."

Snape was wanking his own cock, faster and faster. Harry was mesmerized.

"Harder, Harry, fuck me harder, harder!"

Suddenly he felt the shocks of Snape's orgasm around him, the involuntary contractions of his arse around Harry's cock.

"Severus!" Harry came hard, so hard he thought he might black out. He collapsed over the other man's back.

The two of them sprawled together. They fell to the side, spooning; Harry's cock fell out of Severus, who made a small, disappointed sound, and then they laughed together.

"Are you still high?" Harry asked. He reached up and wiped away a tear from Severus' cheek. He was crying.

"This happened the last time, too. The potion is a downer, you always wind up weeping at the end..." He sniffled hugely.

"Are you going to hate me again when the potion is out of your system?"

"What, for fucking me?"

Harry just looked at him. Snape shrugged.

"Why did you want to have sex with me?" Harry asked.

"Why did you decide to come back here with me?"

"You needed someone to take care of you."

"Ridiculous," Snape muttered. He was still relaxed and smiled when he said it though. He pulled Harry to him. Resting his chin on top of Harry's head, he held him close. The sound of his slow, regular heartbeat and his patient, wheezing breath lulled Harry to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brit-picked by a squicked [](http://maelipstick.livejournal.com/profile)[**maelipstick**](http://maelipstick.livejournal.com/) and beta-read by [](http://rexluscus.livejournal.com/profile)[**rexluscus**](http://rexluscus.livejournal.com/).


	2. Morning After Blues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry wakes up in Severus Snape's bed the morning after a drugged Snape has seduced him.

  
**Morning After Blues**

by

Schemingreader

(a sequel to Blue Tranquilium)

 

Harry was exhausted. The previous day had been nearly as draining for him as it had been for Snape; Snape's trial was very emotional. Neither of them had eaten all day, except for a cup of tea and a chocolate biscuit that a Ministry official brought them while the Wizengamot was conferring _in camera_. Then Snape, under the influence of too much calming potion, had seduced him, and Harry had had two orgasms. So in spite of the strangeness of the situation, Harry slept heavily.

He dreamed about Ginny, about the time that Ginny had evaded her mother's watchful eye and sneaked into his bed when he was staying in the Burrow. He had woken with her arms around him, her breasts pressed against his back. She had a heart-stopping, mischievous smile, and her hair was brilliant as flame in the sun coming in through the window.

The dream was so real. It was like he was back there again.

"Harry, why didn't we ever have sex?"

"I love you so much, Ginny. I can't believe you're dead."

"You never answer a question, do you?" she grinned.

"I wish we had. I was an idiot. I thought I could keep you safe, and that we should save it for marriage."

"I miss you too, Harry. You never come around any more."

"Well, they burnt your house and you died."

"Are you crying? Don't cry, Harry."

"You were so brave and so beautiful and I loved you and you died. I wanted to tell you so much..."

But she wasn't listening. Dreams are like that. She kissed him and it was wonderful.

"We should have done it, Ginny, had sex. It was so much easier than I thought."

But there was something wrong with this thought; what was it?

He woke up disoriented, spooned around Snape's sleeping form. His cock was hard against Snape's muscular buttocks. Oh, right! He was in Snape's bed! He hadn't quite remembered that in his dream.

Snape was still sleeping heavily. Harry disentangled himself carefully and grabbed his wand. He had learned to Summon it without even thinking. He stumbled out of the bedroom into the windowless corridor looking for the loo by wand light.

As he washed his hands, he looked up into the bathroom mirror and realized that he was completely naked. He was so tired and he desperately wanted to go back to bed, but he was also dreading Snape's reaction when he finally woke. He could Summon his clothes and Apparate home—but no. The only thing that would upset Snape more than waking up to Harry would be waking up alone. He would face the man in the morning.

But, Merlin's balls, could he at least be wearing underwear while he did it? Harry tried to Summon his pants and vest. The vest, which he had taken off himself, came to his hand immediately, but not his pants, not his trousers, nor any of his other clothes. All he had was a shirt and vest. He didn't even have shoes.

Snape must have destroyed all of their clothes with the spell he used to take them off. There was no point in putting on just a vest, what he really needed was pants. Nothing for it, he was going to have to go back to bed naked. At least Snape wouldn't be upset to be at a disadvantage when he woke up.

Harry paused in the doorway to the bedroom. Moonlight was coming through the curtains of the window over the bed. Asleep, Snape's face looked sad and much younger than it did when he was awake. His face was gaunt and craggy, his long dark eyelashes sweeping down on the flat planes of his cheeks. He was still not anything close to handsome but in his sleep, he was vulnerable, open, and childlike.

Harry felt a welling of compassion for him. _Stop it_, he told himself firmly. _You'll be lucky if he doesn't eviscerate you for this._

He slid under the covers beside Snape, and, not touching him, shut his eyes.

* * *

 

Harry woke up in Snape's arms, Snape's erection hard against his thigh. Snape was stroking Harry's hair. Harry hadn't realized, the previous night, just how large Snape's cock was. He was really quite well endowed.

Harry moved. Apparently Snape had been asleep, because Harry felt his body stiffen and pull away, very suddenly. His eyes opened.

"Potter," he croaked. "Oh good God."

"Um," Harry said.

Snape rolled away from him out of the bed. He looked down at his naked body. "Shit," he muttered. He ran out the door and down the hallway. Harry could hear him urinating and washing his hands and face. He splashed his face with water repeatedly.

Harry sat up and looked around. Now he was in trouble.

Snape came back into the bedroom; he was wearing a dressing gown.

"Potter," he said stiffly.

"Professor Snape, how are you feeling?" Harry asked. He didn't have to affect professional concern; he was actually a bit worried. "Do you have a headache?"

"What?" Snape said.

"You took a lot of Blue Tranquilium potion yesterday at about half six, do you remember that?"

"Of course I remember—are you trying to find out if I am suffering from known side-effects?"

"Yes."

"All right." Snape sat down on the edge of the bed, pinching the bridge of his nose and screwing his eyes shut tight. "We've apparently just had a one-night stand and you want to know whether you need to fly me to St. Mungo's. Ah, the vicissitudes of middle age."

"Well...no, I'm pretty sure you didn't overdose, because I listened to your heart rate and monitored your breathing."

"Ah, that explains why I woke up with your head on my chest--you were just taking my pulse. It's Cherry Ames, Student Nurse."

"No, er, we slept together. Do you remember that?" Harry's voice jumped into the next octave at the end of the sentence.

"Potter."

"Because you took a lot of that potion, and it can cause memory loss. The most common side effect is a headache in the morning."

"Thank you so much, you little swot. I brewed that potion in the first place, when I was younger than you are now, and I know what a headache feels like."

"But you do remember..."

"Why don't you just assume that I remember everything."

Harry realized that he was blushing again. He felt horrible.

"Now that you've had your _fun_, Potter, I suppose you'll take yourself off." Snape stood up and began pacing around the room, looking everywhere but at Harry.

"But it wasn't like that!"

"Of course you say that, of course. Very nice. Get out."

"For one thing, you seduced me!"

Snape looked at him as though he was mad.

"You don't actually remember anything, do you?"

"Potter, if you can stop feeling superior for just a moment..."

"If you remember everything so clearly, can you remember what the bloody hell you did with my clothes?

Snape stopped pacing and looked at Harry.

"Because I thought you just Banished them but apparently you willed them out of existence entirely!"

Snape started to laugh. He sat down on the edge of the bed, laughing.

"Why do you think I haven't got out of the bed?" Harry asked.

Snape fell back, helpless with mirth. He looked at the ceiling and hiccupped.

Harry looked down at him, upside down. When he was laughing, Snape was like another person. Harry wanted to kiss him.

"What?" Severus said, laughing some more. So Harry leaned down, the sheet slipping off of his shoulders, and pecked Snape on the mouth. It was just an impulse. He pulled back to see what Snape would do.

Emotions flickered across Snape's face in rapid succession: first a smile of genuine pleasure, and then: worry, hurt, blankness. He settled back to his usual ugly sneer.

"You're right, I must have seduced you. You couldn't possibly have seduced me." He sat up.

Harry rolled his eyes.

"I suppose you want another go before you wend your merry way," Snape said.

"No, I...that is to say..."

"You don't want another fuck, just a little kiss?" Snape said it softly, with just the same ambiguous sarcasm that was devastating in the classroom.

"Severus..."

Snape pulled himself up and reared back. "I presume I told you to call me that."

"Yes."

"In the throes of passion."

"Er, yes. Listen..."

Snape winced and shook his head.

"You need to have something to eat, Snape. We didn't eat anything at all yesterday, through the trial; just tea and a biscuit. Please, if you'd let me borrow some clothing, I could cook something. It would help your head."

"All right. I desperately need to bathe."

"Oh. Okay." Harry said in a neutral voice. Snape reacted as though he'd said something negative.

"Potter, what is wrong with you? Did you think we would shower together or something?"

Harry hadn't even considered that. He couldn't have said what he was feeling, aside from gratitude to all that was holy that Snape had allowed him to retain his bollocks.

"Is that the etiquette for one-night-stands in your set?" Snape sneered.

"I...I wouldn't know."

"Because you don't do one-night-stands."

"Er..."

"Because you don't do sex with men."

Harry looked down at the blankets.

"Because you haven't ever actually had sex with anyone before, and holy bloody buggering hell, you probably told me that last night and I went ahead with it anyway."  
Snape put his head in his hands. "Please remember, Potter, that you have hated me for the last fifteen years, and don't imprint on me like some--some newly-hatched duckling."

"Right," Harry said coldly. "Could I have some clothes then, please?" How could he ever have made the mistake of thinking that Snape _liked_ him? Snape didn't like him. He would have died for Harry, that was probably true, but that was just because he was miserable and eager to die for the cause, not because of Harry.

Snape got up and rummaged through the chest of drawers. He came up with a package of new underwear and a pair of sweatpants, and tossed them on the bed. Then he swept out of the room.

Harry cast a cleaning charm on himself and dressed quickly. His shirt and vest were on the floor, intact, where he had taken them off; only the clothes that Snape had waved away were gone. His dress shirt looked a little strange with sweatpants, but that couldn't be helped. He dashed down the stairs for the kitchen.

He didn't know what to expect of Snape's larder, but what he feared was that Snape wasn't eating much. It was one of the reasons he had come back with him after the trial, to check his home situation.

It was strange that it worked out to be Harry doing this in the first place. He had always thought of himself as the person who hated Snape more than anyone else. He was the last survivor of those who had witnessed Snape's Killing Curse on Dumbledore. For reasons he could never understand, everyone but he seemed indifferent to Snape's fate.

Well, not everyone: Hermione and Remus both thought that he was right to be concerned about Snape once they all understood the mitigating circumstances, though neither volunteered to come with him to the trial. But the surviving Weasleys, and his other friends, didn't care what happened to Snape. They hadn't even really cared about whether he was alive and could be brought to justice when they'd all thought he'd murdered Dumbledore. It was as though they didn't really believe Harry on some level. Snape was just another Death Eater, and then it turned out that he wasn't, and either way they were busy with other things.

Snape had always been Harry's problem.

One good thing about having been brought up Muggle was that Harry knew how to work all of Snape's Muggle appliances. The refrigerator wasn't too bad. Snape had a loaf of pre-sliced bread and a pound of butter in the freezer, and eggs and fruit in the main compartment.

Of course he knew that the fact that the bread and butter were in the freezer meant that Snape wasn't eating them quickly enough to keep them in the pantry. But the important thing was that there was edible food in the house, not whether there was evidence that the blighter actually ate it. Harry had worried that maybe all Snape had on hand was potions ingredients, eyeballs in a jar and the like. It was true that the freezer was crammed with neatly labeled glass jars full of herbs.

Harry cracked the eggs into a bowl so that he could smell them to be sure they were still fresh before he put them on the pan.

By the time the eggs were done, Snape was standing in the kitchen doorway. Harry froze.

"I'll set the table," Snape said abruptly. Harry relaxed; he had expected Snape to say something cutting. Though why he was dreading that, he couldn't have explained. At Hogwarts, Snape's cutting remarks were inevitable, and Harry never dreaded them.

_ But I thought he was evil then. _

Snape laid two places as neatly as if he had used a ruler.

The electric kettle was boiling and Harry found a teapot. Snape took it from him without a word. He warmed the pot with a little hot water and then put in three spoons of loose tea. A delicious smell rose from the pot as he poured the water over it.

Harry had only rarely had loose tea prepared to the British Royal Standard. He remembered how Lupin always apologized for using tea bags. He would have been surprised if Snape had done something like that. He was uncompromising about everything. He'd probably decide not to drink tea if he couldn't make right.

"Is there milk?" Harry asked.

"No, I drink my tea black," Snape said. "Of course I haven't had visitors in-- in quite awhile."

"It's all right," Harry said. He sliced an orange into segments and arranged them on the plate in a circle. Snape raised his eyebrows.

"My aunt always did it that way," Harry explained.

"Right," Snape said. Harry went to the cabinet and got out a jar of marmalade. It was open and partially eaten. Good.

They sat down to eat together. Snape looked at Harry expectantly and then said, "Bon appetit."

Harry thought this might be the extent of their breakfast table conversation, but then Snape said, "Thank you for making breakfast, this is delicious."

"You're welcome, " Harry murmured. He was astonished by Snape's politeness; he was being so pleasant!

They finished their meal in silence and cleared the table. Snape washed up. He had plenty of washing-up liquid. His dishtowel was clean.

"You really seem to be all right," Harry said.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I told Minerva I would check up on you," Harry said. It was half-true—he had told Minerva that, but it had been entirely his own idea. "I don't suppose you'll want me to come back, now, so perhaps someone else can..."

"What do you mean, 'check up on me'?"

"I was concerned, I mean, because...you've been very isolated, and..."

"You feel responsible for me, because you think I cast that Killing Curse in part to save you."

"Yes, all right."

"You're a prat, Potter," Snape said in a flat voice.

"So you said."

"I called you a prat and you went to bed with me?" Snape said incredulously.

"What can I say, Snape? You're a sexy devil." Harry smirked.

Snape held his head. "Oh no," he said. "Excuse me."

He rushed into the loo. Harry could hear him vomiting into the toilet.

He went to the door and found Snape at the sink, rinsing his mouth.

"Sorry," Harry said, "Are you all right?"

"Headache," Snape muttered. "I'm going to take a potion."

He walked back into the kitchen. After a moment, Harry followed him, and saw him taking a dram of a familiar purple liquid.

"No, not that one!" Harry cried, running into the kitchen. He might have knocked the dose out of Snape's hand, but it was too late; Snape had taken it.

"Why not this one, the purple analgesic is very mild. There's no documented interaction between this potion and Blue Tranquilium, is there?" Snape said, his face incredulous.

"Yes, there is! You have been out of touch for six years! Madame Pomfrey was the one who did the research!"

"Fine." Snape said. He looked calmer.

"Is your head better, at least?"

"Yes, I've been in terrible pain on and off since I woke up, but I didn't want you to know that." Snape looked absolutely astonished. "I didn't mean to say that at all!"

Harry shook his head, half amused and half appalled. "That's the interaction. It acts like a truth serum. It dampens the inhibition to speak."

"But I don't want to tell you what I'm thinking!"

"I know."

"Get out!" Snape said angrily.

"Don't panic, you can't possibly take any more Blue Tranquilium now."

"Get out of my house! You did this on purpose!"

"No I did not! I tried to tell you not to take the second potion. I even tried to warn you not to take so much Blue Trank. I can't leave. You have just taken a potentially dangerous drug combination. "

"You're not my keeper, Potter."

"Fine, but I don't think I should leave."

"If anything, I've been your keeper."

"Fine, Snape, but now I am wondering whether we do need to go to St. Mungo's."

"No!" Snape yelled suddenly. He reached out as though to shake Harry, then pulled back, and began storming up and down.

"Are you angry or just..."

"I'm totally out of control of my emotions and IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT!" Snape's eyes bulged and his face had an angry flush. Harry hadn't seen him this way in years. "You always do this to me. I work so hard to stay in control...."

"I always do this to you?" Harry said, in a low voice. "You haven't changed. You still think I'm someone I'm not."

"I know exactly who you are, Harry Potter," Snape said. It was one of the voices he used in school that Harry had always found menacing. Now it sounded disturbingly... sexy.

"Really, who am I then," Harry muttered. "First I'm the nice young lad you want to take to bed, next I'm the source of all your troubles—"

"Oh I still want to take you to bed," Snape said, and then looked very annoyed. "Shit!"

"I know you can't help it, I'm not going to hold it against you," Harry said.

"I want you to hold it against me, Potter," Snape said in a low voice. "I want take that pretty, pretty arse, and hold it against me." He paused and looked horrified. "Bugger and blast, I would never say that! I can't believe there is an interaction, how the hell did the Blue Tranquilium stay in my system so long!" Snape raged.

"This is why Pomfrey was able to observe the side effect. We used the potion on people with battle trauma, and then they took the potion to deal with the resulting headache. Are you nauseated at all? Do you have tingling in your fingers?"

"I have tingling in my prick," Snape said in what could only be described as a sultry voice. He smacked his forehead. "Oh my dear God, I am the most practiced Occlumens of my generation and I can't stop myself from blurting out idiotic innuendo. Must you witness my every most humiliating moment? Why do you always have to be the one to see me at my very worst?"

"I apologized for that Pensieve thing..." Harry said. "It wasn't my idea to be there that night at the Tower!"

"Shut up, Potter! Just shut up! I don't blame you, all right? I mean, I do, emotionally, because I am utterly fucked up, but I know intellectually you are always in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Oh, is that what you call it? Is that why you hated me so much the moment I appeared in school?"

"I felt guilty, all right, I felt guilty because I loved your mother and I didn't want anything bad to happen to her. I told Voldemort about that prophecy and then..." Snape's voice caught and he blinked hard; tears ran down his face.

"Are you crying?"

"Jesus fucking Christ, I am going to Obliviate you so hard when this is over."

"Please don't, Severus."

"What? Why, because it was your first time having sexual intercourse?"

"Yes." Harry looked at his bare feet. He'd meant to ask for shoes.

"Why did you even agree to do that with me? It's not like I forced you, you can't force someone to top."

"You acted like...you liked me."

"I do like you." Snape looked distressed.

"What? You mean you like me sexually."

"Of course, sexually, I like you sexually. I like your company. You've grown up and I like you."

"Would you ever say this if you weren't forced to by the potion?"

"Of course I wouldn't. I would never want you to know how I felt about anything. You could hurt me."

"I could hurt you? That doesn't seem very likely..."

"Harry," Snape said. His voice was soft and dangerous. "If I have to be honest because of the potion, don't you think you should be honest too?"

"Well, you know, I..." Harry began. _He called me Harry_. "I didn't realize how much I wanted you to like me, how much it hurt that you hated me. I respected you in a way that I never respected my aunt and uncle."

"You thought I was like your horrible Muggle relatives?"

"They also seemed to hate me for existing."

"I don't like being compared to them. I never liked it that Dumbledore left you with Petunia."

"I'll bet you wouldn't have said that, either, without the potion."

"Don't gloat, it's unseemly."

"That sounds more like you."

"So my having sex with you meant to you that I liked you," Snape said flatly.

"No, it was how happy you were. I didn't realize until you were smiling at me how much I had always wished for it. It's pathetic, I wanted you to like me all along, even when I hated you so much."

"It's so strange for you to show this much insight into your own motivations. Of course the last time we saw each other you were younger, and we were hardly having a conversation. It was just curses."

"What's your excuse?"

"For what, not knowing my own motivations? I'm an Occlumens and a traumatized old sod."

"No, for wanting to have sex with me." Harry knew he sounded needy and petulant, in a way he hadn't since he was fifteen.

"Because your face is so...sweet. You have a sweeter face now than you did as a little boy. It's your mouth, reminds me of your mother's, same thin curvy lips. It reminds me of strawberries." He looked down, his face frustrated, teeth clenched. He obviously didn't want to say all of this. His hands fisted convulsively. "Because you're here and I've been so lonely, and it feels like I was lonely for you. Because you finally charged in to my rescue, and no one does that, and I never thought you would do that for me."

Harry put his arms around Snape. They were the same height. He leaned his head against Snape's, looking into his eyes over the frames of his glasses. Snape's body was stiff against his.

"Do you want me to touch you?" Harry asked.

"Yes, very much. But I can't relax."

"Because of the potion?"

"I just...I can't relax. I can get hard, I can perform, but I can't..."

"It's all right, I don't need you to have sex with me."

"But I want to, you are going to leave and this is my last chance. Damn you and damn your stupid potion interactions."

"I'm not going to leave if you don't want me to leave," Harry said. "If you need me to stay, I'll stay."

"I don't need you to stay. In my mind you were a little boy only last week. I shouldn't have had sex with you. I can't believe I want you here, I feel like if I let you leave I'll die, I think these potions are causing me to lose my mind."

Snape flopped into a kitchen chair, looking exhausted.

"I'm sorry this happened, Professor," Harry said.

"Which, that we had sex?" Snape asked.

"No, that was--that was good."

"Do you want to do it again?"

"I...meant I was sorry about the potions. Yes." Harry blushed.

"Yes, you want to do it again? Why?"

"You know why. Don't make me say it."

"Come on, then."

"What? You're still under the influence of the potion."

"I am aroused though." Snape looked mortified. "If I can stop panicking we could have a lovely fuck."

Harry thought they might both die of embarrassment. "But...it's only ten in the morning!"

"All right, we'll do it on the sofa."

For some reason, that made sense to Harry. They weren't going back to bed in the middle of the day, after all. He followed Snape into the front room and sat down on the sofa next to him. Snape sat still, stiff, uncomfortable.

Harry had to do something. Snape wasn't the only one who got panicked in this kind of situation. When Harry was with Ginny, he never had to make the first move. Harry was probably gay, he had come to understand that, but he still missed Ginny terribly in moments like these. If Ginny had been the one here with Snape, they would be snogging, rolling on the floor, whether Snape liked girls or not. She was brave that way.

He had a lump in his throat. It was sad that she was dead, and sad how much more he desired Snape than he had ever wanted her. She was wonderful and Snape was terrifying and Harry wanted him anyway. Snape was glaring at him, or maybe just concentrating on him intensely.

Snape kissed him on the mouth. It was not sloppy at all, not the silly licking that Snape had given him while high. If Harry could have said anything about it, he would have said it had technique.

Snape had dipped their bodies over in a smooth arc, and was on top of him. Their chests pressed together. The level of sensation was amazing; how exciting it was. The feeling and smell of the other man's body, the taut muscularity of his arms, his hair, still damp from the shower, brushing Harry's face—it was all overwhelming.

Harry opened his eyes and saw the fierce expression on Snape's face at close range. He broke the kiss.

"What?" Snape said.

Harry looked at his face, so familiar and yet so different from what he remembered. He stroked down one of the winged eyebrows with his thumb. Then he carefully took off his glasses, and put them on the table next to the sofa, and shutting his eyes, kissed Snape back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thank my beta-readers, [](http://rexluscus.livejournal.com/profile)[**rexluscus**](http://rexluscus.livejournal.com/), [](http://stasia.livejournal.com/profile)[**stasia**](http://stasia.livejournal.com/) and [](http://busaikko.livejournal.com/profile)[**busaikko**](http://busaikko.livejournal.com/).   
> Author's note: Yes, Snape could too know about[Cherry Ames, Student Nurse.](http://www.netwrx1.com/CherryAmes/foreign-greatbritain.html). Poor Cherry, I mean Harry.


	3. Orange Burn Salve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set this year, 2006: Harry is staying at Severus Snape's house to take care of him after his acquittal by the Wizengamot.

  
**Orange Burn Salve**

or, Snape Scalds His Penis

(well, sort of)  


 

Harry's owl Hedwig was quite old, but she winged her way to him with the same grace and speed as always. There was a note in a familiar scrawl, addressed to "Harry Potter, Spinner's End, Yorkshire":

> Harry, are you sure that you are the right person to stay with Snape as he plans his re-entry into wizarding society? I know you have thought a lot about it, but it really does seem to me like the "saving people thing" all over again.
> 
> Good to know where you are, though. Keep us posted.
> 
> All my love,
> 
> Hermione

Harry rolled his eyes. There was no way he was going to tell her about the change in his relationship with Snape. Not that it had changed, much. Snape was still plaguing him with insults, and he still felt angry and frustrated with Snape's unfairness. He still didn't trust Snape.

But he _had_ been sleeping with his old school nemesis.

Yes, Harry had pursued him for years to take revenge for Dumbledore's murder. But when Harry learned the truth of Dumbledore's blackmail of Snape, and his own culpability in the old man's death, he no longer blamed Snape for Dumbledore's death. He blamed himself, in part, for putting Snape in a bad position.

Snape came out of hiding to stand trial for his crimes before the Wizengamot. Harry testified on his behalf and, after his acquittal, accompanied him home to Spinner's End, where Snape had been living under Fidelius as a Muggle.

Snape was a bit unnerved by the turn of events. He had expected to die in the final battle, if not before. He was slightly depressed, anxious and isolated. Harry, who was in training as an emergency Healer, was worried about him. Sleeping with him was probably not the most professional way to express his concern, but it just... happened.

Though he was twenty-six years old, it was the first time Harry had ever had sexual intercourse with anyone. He was confused and distracted, and perhaps not the best person to take care of a similarly disoriented Snape.

* * *

 

"Jesus _Christ_ Potter! Are you trying to kill me?"

Harry, who was unused to Muggle plumbing, didn't know that Snape's voice could go that high. He hadn't remembered that flushing the toilet while the shower was running would cut off every bit of cold water. Or had something else happened? Because Snape did like the water very hot.

Snape jumped from the shower. The entire front of his body was red, and blisters were beginning to form on his upper chest.

"Oh shit, Severus, you're burnt!"'

Snape had a developed a weird, trying-to-sneer-but-in-too-much-distress expression since Harry had been staying with him.

"Oh, God! I have burn salve, Pomfrey's orange burn salve, I'll get it."

Snape was shivering under a blue towel, dripping water on the bathmat in misery. Harry ran into the bedroom and found the jar of burn salve in his rucksack.

"Severus, my God, I'm so sorry," Harry said. "I didn't mean, oh my God, look at this, I'm..."

He took the salve and began to smear it down Snape's front, starting where he seemed the most hurt. The worst burns were on his chest, from Snape's clavicle to his navel. Some even seemed to be second-degree, with blistering, which was very bad for a shower scald. Harry was practiced at touching people gently, but Snape still gasped when Harry's cool hands touched his throat, and moved down.

Harry stroked down the other man's torso. The salve tingled under Harry's fingers. Harry had learned to put his magic into healing, and some of the burns disappeared immediately. Others took a bit longer, but Harry could see them fading.

When he got to Severus' groin, Harry grimaced in sympathy. He looked up. Severus' face was blank. It must hurt very much, Harry thought. He took more salve and began to rub it into the tender skin where Snape's skinny, muscular thighs met the juncture of his lower abdomen. Harry wasn't finding any blisters so far, but he needed to check through the pubic hair to make sure that he wasn't missing any.

He had to put the salve on Severus' penis, which was not blistered but was very red; was it a first-degree burn? Harry rubbed the salve into Severus' thighs and his testicles, rubbing it in very gently.

Then he put some more on the penis, since he was worried about unseen potential damage. He stroked down the length of the phallus, which was very hard. He did a careful examination of the entire genital area, to make sure that there was no damage that he was missing.

On his third application of the slippery goo, Snape grabbed his hand.

"I'm sorry, is it too sensitive?" Harry asked, looking up into Snape's face. His expression was not blank. It was dark, intense. He looked angry; but maybe it wasn't anger. The hand that had his hand molded Harry's fingers around Severus' hard cock.

"You are going to kill me, Potter," Severus growled. He stooped to bridge the very little distance between their faces, and kissed Harry on the mouth. His thin lips were soft, and his tongue played Harry's like a bow on a violin. Harry's whole body sang as he touched Severus' penis. It was hot, not from the burn, but from Severus' blood. Severus sighed into Harry's mouth.

"Oh, oh God," Harry whispered when Severus let him up for air.

"Perhaps you should make sure it still _works_, " Snape suggested. Harry pulled and stroked Snape's cock. He had never really touched him there in their sexual encounters until now. He hadn't really touched anyone in that way. Ginny, a little, but that was a long time ago and he had been too nervous to do it well. So he hadn't had much experience with anyone, male or female, but it was exciting to touch Snape.

He tried to make it the way he liked to touch himself, but it was backward and Snape was longer and thinner there. Snape writhed and made wonderful noises. He came, jets of spunk hitting the floor.

"The salve, it has to ..." Harry said.

"My cock wasn't burnt. I'm used to this house and its crazy plumbing, and I know to cover my bits when it makes that noise. The backs of my hands need salve though," Snape said.

Harry knew that he was blushing as he rubbed the salve carefully into the long fingers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thank my beta-reader [](http://busaikko.livejournal.com/profile)[**busaikko**](http://busaikko.livejournal.com/)., who actually notices how hot her water heater is set.


	4. Homework Blues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry learns that in most gay relationships, partners take turns bottoming, but he hasn't done it yet. He decides to prepare himself to try it.

  
**Homework Blues**

by

Schemingreader

 

If Harry had been Ron, he would have thought, "It's all Hermione's fault." Of course, if Harry had been Ron, he wouldn't have been gay. "Gay for Snape, of all people," Harry imagined Ron saying, and then, "You and your research, Hermione, you've got the bloke completely second-guessing himself."

If it weren't for how well things went in the war when she insisted on research, he wouldn't have got that book on gay sex. He hated to do things by the book, but Severus knew so much more about sex that Harry was starting to feel like an idiot. Severus seemed to enjoy it when Harry fucked him. But the gay sex books that he bought said that in most long-term relationships, partners take turns "bottoming."

Seeing the word "bottom" as a verb made Harry laugh. It was the sort of thing that Dudley would say. Bottom. Bottom. It was the sort of word you didn't have to say many times before it completely stopped making sense.

Back to his task, Harry reflected that it probably was Hermione's fault. She had been the one to pressure him to be systematic about homework. That was how he had decided to do some bottoming homework and bought this fucking huge blue dildo. Back in school he never would have guessed he'd be doing this sort of extra homework for Snape.

What had he been thinking, ordering this thing? Usually when Harry had to do something that tested his courage, he didn't have enough time to really consider the implications of it. Now he was staring this enormous dong in the, well, in the face. If he didn't go through with it he would be a coward. Damn that Sorting Hat for putting him in Gryffindor. He had to go through with it.

When they were in school, he always did his homework with Hermione and Ron. It would have been nice to have the two of them here, and bickering, now. Well, not right now as he attempted to bugger himself with this rather large magical dildo. He didn't want to have sex with them, his friends. Nor would it be pleasant to have anyone see him deal with the dong. It just would have been nice to have a little support as he took the thing out of the box.

Someone to ooh and aah the way they did in third year when Sirius sent him the Firebolt.

Oh man, if Sirius were alive, Harry would be in big trouble. "What do you mean you're going to bugger yourself with an object to prepare yourself to bottom for Snape? What's 'bottom,' does that mean what I think it does?"

Well, perhaps Sirius had known what "to bottom" meant, even though it seemed terribly American. Sirius had seemed cosmopolitan. Of course any adult does, when you are fifteen.

Not good to think about Sirius at a time like this—too sad. He needed to think sexy thoughts, not to worry about what different people in his life would have thought about him and Snape.

He took the dildo out of the box and removed the bottle of special magical lubricant that came with it. Both were blue and sparkled.

It was a very good thing that the twins had expanded their operation enough that they wouldn't know that he was the one who had ordered the dong and the lube.

He took the magical pornography album out of the box next. You were supposed to be able to tap your wand on the book and it would immediately know your deepest fantasies. Since he couldn't have even guessed at his deepest fantasies, he thought it would be helpful. He took off his pajama bottoms so that he would have access to his arse, and took a great dollop of the lube in his left hand, and then stopped.

Put it on the dildo? Put it on his arse?

He put a big dab of the sparkling blue lube on his anus, where it felt all squishy and weird. Then he sort of wiped the rest of it on the toy.

"It's going to be fun," he told himself firmly, "and this way, when I do it with Severus, it won't be the first time."

He opened the book and tapped it with his wand. Oh good. His deepest fantasy right now was to know what the bloody hell he was supposed to do with this thing, and the book had formed helpful diagrams.

He knelt over the book with his arse in the air, and rubbed the head of the dong around on his crack.

"You'll need more lube than that, big boy," the book said out loud.

He snorted. The book showed him a handsome man putting a big squirt of lube on the dong. All right.

"Stroke it, that's right honey, stroke it like it's your boyfriend."

The book was a bit annoying.

It was a sexy thought though, that he could be stroking Severus this way. Severus had a wonderfully large cock and very big, hairy balls. Harry really liked to suck him.

Without thinking, he put the dong in his mouth. The lube was pleasantly minty, so he left it there, licking around the head, imagining how Severus would react. The book said, "Oh Harry, suck me!" and he gasped. Just like Severus' voice.

"Now take it out," the book instructed him. "Open your eyes so I can show you."

The book showed him Severus licking his arse. "Oh God," Harry exclaimed, "oh look at that."

He started to stroke the artificial penis between his arse cheeks, teasing himself the way he imagined Severus would tease him.

"Severus, oh," he breathed. Now he wanted to feel what it would be like when Severus put his penis inside. He nudged the head of the dildo against his arse. That was exciting, and he groaned a little. He was very hard.

Then he tried to get it to go inside him. He had inserted only the tip of the head, and it was already too much.

"God, I'll never get him inside me," he muttered. "Severus is huge. I have no idea what I'm doing."

There was a soft snicker from the doorway. Harry was crouched on all fours with his head toward the headboard. He looked over his shoulder. "You're home," he said, heart sinking. Home and walked in to find Harry with his arse in the air, looking like a total prat.

"What are you doing?" Severus said softly.

Harry blushed, and scrambled for a more dignified position, but there really wasn't one, with this big blue sex toy wedged between his cheeks. "Well, you know I haven't, well, bottomed, and, I though you might, you know, like to…"

Severus was smiling at him in the most predatory way. "Were you really going to sodomize yourself with this huge thing?" he said. "I shouldn't have interrupted. I think that would be quite arousing. That is, if you didn't injure yourself too badly. Idiot boy."

"How long have you been there?" Harry asked.

"A little while. I like the view." Over Harry's shoulder, Severus' sallow cheeks were coloured, and his eyes were very bright. "I watched you take the cock in your mouth."

"I just wanted to be, you know, ready if you wanted me to…"

"Harry," Severus said in a deep and silky purr. "Would you like me to fuck you?"

Unable to speak, he nodded. Severus sat next to him on the bed and started to undo the buttons on Harry's shirt.

"What are you—why are you taking off my shirt?"

"Because we are going to make love, and I want to feel your whole body under mine."

"Oh," Harry managed.

"No, stay there," Severus said. "I like the way you look."

So Harry had to stay with his arse in the air, head down, blood rushing to his face. He could barely look at Severus for blushing, though he could see him stripping down out of the corner of his eye.

Severus was very hard. His cock was up against his navel. He got on the bed on all fours over Harry, and kissed him. His erection bumped up against Harry's balls.

Tongue in Harry's mouth, he began to stroke Harry's cock with the lubricant. Harry couldn't help moaning into Severus' mouth.

"Hmm, would you like me to pull this out?" Severus teased. He eased the dildo out of Harry's arse, and pushed his cheeks apart.

"Pink, you're pink," he murmured. Then he put his mouth on Harry.

"Oh, my, oh," Harry gasped. "You have your mouth on my, oh God."

Severus kept licking his arse. Then, when Harry was basically shoving himself into Severus' face, he gently eased a finger inside. He didn't move it.

"Can't rush this," he said. Then he went back to licking, around the finger.

Harry's muscles relaxed and the finger went all the way inside. Harry groaned. Severus began pushing the finger in and out.

He pulled out and pushed in with two fingers. That was a little more, and he licked Harry's arse some more to make him relax. Harry was shoving himself back on the fingers. It felt surprisingly good.

Then Severus did something with his finger inside and touched Harry's prostate. Harry made another involuntary noise.

"You're very tight. You never even put your fingers in there, did you?" Severus asked conversationally.

"Er, no," Harry whispered.

"Why are you whispering?" Severus whispered back.

"Don't tease me, Severus," Harry pleaded in a choked voice. "Please." How could he be so calm? He kept moving his fingers back and forth. If Harry hadn't felt Severus' cock, hot and hard against his thigh, he might have thought he was unaffected.

But he was breathing through his nose in the way that he did when he was excited, as well.

"I'm going to fuck you, Harry," Severus said, as though responding to Harry's thoughts. "Don't worry, I'll fuck you until you can't breathe."

Severus eased a third finger in with the other two. Harry's arse was relaxed, but it still felt extremely strange to have something inside it.

"Here," Severus said. He put the dildo in front of Harry's face. "Suck on that."

Harry took the big cock into his mouth and began to suck the head like a lolly. Severus parted his arse cheeks wide. He was just looking. Harry shoved back toward him.

"All right," Severus said. He pushed the head of his cock inside. Harry groaned around the dong. "Suck it, Harry," Severus told him. He pushed inside very slowly. It didn't hurt, exactly, but Harry still thought he might split in two. So big, and he was so full.

Severus rested inside him. He pushed Harry's cheeks together around him, and kind of massaged them in a circle around his cock. "What a pretty arse, like a peach," Severus said to himself.

The dildo began thrusting itself in and out of Harry's mouth.

"Oh yes, oh God that's so hot," Severus said. "Suck it." He began thrusting slowly. "More lube," he said, and the jar flew into his hand. He smeared it on the base of his cock and the outside of Harry's hole and kept fucking in and out.

Harry groaned. He felt totally out of control. He was going to come any second now.

"Suck," Severus grunted. "Suck that blue cock," he said thrusting. "You are so tight," he said. He started to stroke Harry's cock again.

"Ungh," Harry said, the dildo dropping from his lips to the bed. "Oh, Severus, oh, it feels so, uh…"

"I'm going to come," Severus said. Harry felt him thrust deep and then he was coming, spurting all over Severus' big warm hand.

Severus rested, panting, his cheek against Harry's shoulder.

"That was really good," Harry said shyly.

"You're going to be the death of me, Potter," Severus panted, and laughed.

Harry found his mouth and kissed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [](http://stasia.livejournal.com/profile)[**stasia**](http://stasia.livejournal.com/) for a quick and dirty beta-read. Plot bunny from chatting with [](http://rexluscus.livejournal.com/profile)[**rexluscus**](http://rexluscus.livejournal.com/), who refused to write this. This is another in the series that started with [Blue Tranquilium](http://schemingreader.livejournal.com/40364.html), though I also put the magical porn book from my unrelated story Pornopticon in here. Just a little smut for your reading pleasure.


	5. Bad Dream Blues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry has been living with Snape since Snape's panic attack after his Wizengamot trial, and the press has found out. Should they stay together?

**Bad Dream Blues**

 

> Dear Harry,
> 
> Rita Skeeter approached me in Diagon Alley yesterday, asking about you. Apparently someone on your Healer programme leaked the news that you have taken a leave of absence. We should talk about how you want me to handle it. Snape's not on the Floo, is he? Could you send me his telephone number, please?
> 
> Love,
> 
> Hermione
> 
> PS. Harry, I won't say I'm worried about you. But my mum has been asking where you've been since Snape's trial. Could you drop her a line, please? Love, Ron

 

Harry's first thought was, "Molly Weasley, the woman who still used the phrase 'scarlet woman' in the 1990s. What do you think she'll say when you tell her you're gay?"

His second thought was, "What do you think they'll all say if they find out from the Prophet?"

He let his head fall onto his arms, folded on the table in front of him.

"What's wrong, Potter?" Snape asked impatiently.

"Hermione wants to call me," Harry said.

"Why is that a problem?"

Snape continued making porridge on the old Muggle stove.

"Because the Daily Prophet wants to know where I am," Harry said.

Finally he shoved the parchment with Hermione's note across the table to Snape.

"What's the matter?"

"What's the matter? Don't you understand, the whole sodding wizarding world could show up on your doorstep."

Snape looked at him, "Of course they couldn't. I've been hiding for six years, what makes you think they'll find me now?"

"The Ministry knows where you are. They're really spiteful."

"Then I'll hide somewhere else. Stop thinking like a Muggle, Potter—what do you think magic is for?"

"It's using magic that'll get you found," Harry muttered.

"I will manage. I've always managed. I don't need help," Snape said each word slowly, with angry emphasis. "Anyway, Potter, aren't you begging the question? Why are you still here? Why aren't you going back to your studies?"

Harry didn't say anything.

"You're like a stray kitten or puppy or something. Feed you and it's like I've become your mummy," Snape sneered. "A little sex here and there, and you're totally dependent."

"Right then," Harry muttered out loud. "It's Snape, remember." He was infuriated. He was giving something up to take care of Snape, and Snape was mocking him, again. He Summoned his belongings—just a rucksack and wand. "I'll send you your clothes back later, thanks for a lovely time, have a nice life." In a flurry of temper, he Disapparated.

He found himself back at his own house at Godric's Hollow. "Stupid git," he said, whether about himself or Snape he wasn't sure. He started throwing things around the room. Some he picked up and threw, and some objects were just flying over his head. He was so angry that he couldn't control it. Why had he thought Snape cared for him? Snape didn't care for him. Bastard.

Then he stopped, objects hanging in the air before they fell. He remembered Snape's words, compelled by the potion interaction.

He liked Harry; he just didn't want to admit it.

After so much anger, Harry was drained. It was like something inside him had been removed.

Harry felt like hell. He slid to the floor of his living room. His parents' pictures were on the wall. No one to love him, and he didn't even kiss Snape goodbye.

Kiss him goodbye! Had he lost his mind? Severus Snape?

How was he going to sleep by himself? How would he sleep without that large heavy hand stroking his hair, keeping away bad dreams?

He had to go back, to plead with the old bastard to take him back. But he couldn't. Snape had hidden Spinner's End from magic, and Harry couldn't Apparate back. He stretched out into the space with his mind, but there was nothing.

Harry felt like he'd never be all right again. It was like losing Ginny, or Sirius, like someone had died. Snape wasn't dead.

An owl flapped in through the window. Harry unwound the message from her leg.

>  
> 
> Potter—
> 
> What the hell was that? Since when are you so sensitive?
> 
> Yours,
> 
> S.
> 
>  

 

_Mine? He's not mine. He doesn't need me. Sensitive my arse._ He wadded up the parchment and threw it at the floor.

Then he imagined Snape in the back garden at Spinner's End, releasing an owl. It might be the first one he had sent since he came out of hiding. How had he lived for so long without magic, this person who had invented his own spells as a teenager, who was so passionate about everything magical. Harry had missed that since he left school, as much as he had disliked Snape.

Harry Summoned a quill and chewed it for five minutes. Finally he scrawled quickly,

>  
> 
> Severus,
> 
> I was an idiot. I'm sorry. I love you. Take me back.
> 
> Harry
> 
>  

 

He fell to the floor, hollow and spent.

The next letter was a Howler. Snape's voice, amplified and huge, reverberated in Harry's little house. A grim sound, he ground out "HOW DARE YOU!" and then the message burst into flame. The ashes rained down with the sound of Snape muttering "cruel, capricious, mocking me after all that."

_What have I done,_ Harry thought. _How could telling the truth finally result in something worse than lying?_ He couldn't swallow, his throat hurt so much. He curled on the floor in a ball on his side.

His left ear was all wet. He was weeping, actually crying, and the tears were rolling down his face into his ear. Weird.

Harry couldn't remember the last time he had cried. So many terrible things had happened that to cry over not seeing Snape anymore seemed absurd. His parents were dead. Cedric was dead. Sirius, who had loved him, was dead. He wasn't so sure anymore that he should have loved Dumbledore so much, but he was wise, and he had loved Harry, and he was dead. Ginny, brave and beautiful, was dead. The Burrow, the best house in all the world, was burnt to the ground. No more family for Harry; all his friends were dispersed.

Why was he lying on the floor weeping over Snape? Snape didn't love him and Snape was still alive.

How long had Harry gone without anyone touching him, as a child? There was a reason why this felt like death. He understood that, but he still felt it. It felt as bad as a dementor attack, and as seductive.

* * *

 

He had wept for what felt like hours. Finally, he had to go to the loo so he picked himself up off the floor and went upstairs.

He took a shower and put on some of the clothes he hadn't seen for two months: red and yellow striped rugby jersey and blue jeans and his trainers. Unlike the clothes he had been borrowing from Snape, they fit without magical adjustment.

He cleaned his glasses with a spell. His eyes in the mirror were unnaturally bright, the green of his irises standing out against the reddened whites.

* * *

 

Hermione and Ron had a flat together in the center of London. She was doing some kind of dual Muggle-wizarding post Bacc credential. It seemed she couldn't stop studying. He was working for the Ministry on new ways of adapting Muggle technology.

Hermione always explained that Ron wasn't really adapting Muggle technology; he was readjusting the metaphors of spell-crafting.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Doesn't matter a whit, does it, as long as it works properly."

They still argued constantly, a low-level bickering. It would be good to allow that sound to break over his head. Maybe he should go see them.

At the doorway to his bedroom he stopped, and as if his thoughts had brought them, Hermione and Ron were there in the upstairs hallway, about to knock on the bedroom door. Hermione's hair was standing out all around her head in a frizzy halo. They burst into his bedroom.

"Harry! What's wrong?"

He desperately wanted a hug from each of them, but if he got one he was sure to weep again, so he kept his arms stiffly at his sides.

"We just got a visit from your Patronus, and it brought us here," Hermione said. There were three silvery phantasms behind her in the hallway—his Patronus and theirs.

"Ah, yeah," Harry said. "Something weird happened to me last night, and I—"

Out of nowhere, Ron embraced him, thumping him on the back. "Where the bloody hell have you been, Harry?" he rumbled. Harry was still a head shorter than Ron, and his head was against the other man's chest.

Hermione's small hand settled awkwardly in his hair, stroking down the many cowlicks.

Harry's body relaxed and he sighed. Then he remembered he was going to have to tell them he had been having sex with Snape, and everything tensed up again.

"What happened, Harry?" Hermione asked softly. "Did you finally row with Snape?"

"Finally row with him?" Ron said incredulously. "I'm sure they were fighting all along."

"Er, about that," Harry began.

But he didn't have to say any more, because there was a loud rapping at the bedroom door and then someone said "Alohamora!" and Snape burst into the room.

"Potter!" he spat, "Where are the Dementors?"

"Dementors?" Hermione repeated.

"He's not afraid of anything else; he'd hardly call me for help for something smaller."

"I thought it was Death Eaters," Ron admitted. "When I didn't see any I thought you did them yourself."

Harry just stood there. "I don't remember summoning the Patronus."

"You didn't only cast it _once_," Snape complained.

 

"Obviously, because we're here, too," Ron said.

"There was a great bloody herd of your silver stags in my living room at 4AM. I'm not Father Christmas, Potter, I don't need to be pulled on a bloody _sleigh_."

Harry snorted. Then he noticed, horrified, that the tears had begun their slow march down his face again. He wiped them impatiently. "Allergies," he muttered unconvincingly.

"You cast Patronum because you were upset?" Snape was incredulous. "You scare me sometimes, Potter. Too much power and not enough control."

Harry hiccupped. "Sorry," he muttered.

Ron goggled at him. "Whoa," he said. "You just apologized to Severus Snape."

Hermione said, immediately, "Ron, we're adults now, could you please--"

"He made a lot of sacrifices," Harry said quietly.

"So! So!" Ron shouted. "We all lost a great deal--you more than anyone, Harry--your parents--Sirius Black--my sister--" He choked on the last. Hermione reflexively touched his shoulder.

"All right," Harry didn't raise his voice. Snape wasn't moving; he was just impassive, impenetrable, as cold as he used to be. "Then he _also_ made a lot of sacrifices, just like the rest of us." Harry said finally. Yes; it was the weight of all of that loss that was pulling him down now. No wonder everything felt all out of proportion.

"Harry, are you all right?" Hermione squeaked.

"Of course he's not all right," Ron said, gesturing at Snape.

"Shut _up_ Ron," Hermione hissed.

Harry didn't say anything. Finally Snape said "Since you don't need me here, I will be going now."

"No!" Harry said. "No." He wasn't weeping but his eyes were tearing a little, like when you peel an onion.

"Do you need a potion?" Snape asked. "For your, er, allergies."

"No, I'll be all right," Harry said automatically.

"Are you having some kind of battle flashback?" Hermione asked.

"Oh, that must be it," Ron muttered.

Snape was still just standing there, with that non-expression on his face. It was just like at school. Harry wanted to touch him on the arm, just to make sure it was the same person he had known these past few weeks. It was like being frozen, the breath knocked out of him, seeing Snape like that again. _So cold, like he hates me._

They just stood there, staring at each other, until finally Hermione said, "All right, then, Ron, let's go downstairs and make some tea." She had to pull him by the hand; Harry was dimly aware of his worried frown. "We'll just be downstairs if you need us, Professor." Ron was complaining under his breath as she dragged him away.

The silence was stifling. Finally Harry broke through his strange lethargy and stumbled forward to grab Snape's forearm. "Don't Apparate away, Severus."

"Don't tell me what to do."

"Don't--don't look at me like that."

"Don't--" Snape began, but Harry had got his arms around the other man and was holding him tightly.

"Don't leave," Harry whispered.

"Don't--" Snape said in a strangled voice, but Harry was kissing him and what was he going to do about it? With a sigh through his nose, he opened his lips and their tongues met. His body relaxed infinitesimally and his arms found their way around Harry.

"When did you get to be so fragile?" Snape said finally.

"I'm not fragile, I was just--well. Maybe since it stopped being completely unsafe to feel anything. Nothing like a good load of feeling everything at once to scare the living shit out of a person."

 

Snape nodded. "But we can't stay together. Surely you see that, Potter. This is just an attachment because of sex and--"

"I don't care. I want to stay with you."

"That was uncharacteristically petulant of you--" But Snape was trembling and holding on to Harry very, very tightly.

"It's scary, isn't it. I think it is."

 

"I don't get scared." Snape said.

"I know. You just get really angry."

"I don't think I can do it. I don't think I can take it. I'm not young anymore. If you leave me again I don't think I'll be able to stand it."

"You're not so old. You're only 46."

Snape looked at him down the length of his considerable nose. "Only," he repeated.

Harry took a deep breath. "I didn't really mean to leave you. I just lost my temper and then I couldn't get back to you. I love you. Please take me back." _If I die from embarrassment, then I'll be dead and I won't be able to hear him if he says no._

But Snape gave a huge sniffle and said "All right."

"Really?"

"Don't push it, Potter."

Harry kissed him with passionate enthusiasm, running his hands all over Snape's body. Snape groaned.

"Do you want to--"

"Your friends are downstairs--" Snape warned.

"We'll be quiet," Harry said. He was salivating a little.

Snape started to laugh. Harry took that as assent. He pushed Snape down onto the bed, and began to unbutton Snape's jeans. His cock was warm and hard through the denim. Harry hummed a little.

"You like sucking cock," Snape observed, perhaps unwisely because his own cock seemed to harden even more, springing free of its fabric prison as Harry pulled down Snape's pants.

"God, yes," Harry murmured, and then took the whole thing into his mouth at once with a happy sound.

"Shhh," Snape said. He put his forearm over his own mouth and leaned back, shutting his eyes.

Harry took his time, enjoying everything about it. First he bobbed his head up and down a bit, listening to Snape's muffled gasps. Then he pulled back and licked just the head, stimulating the vein under the head, that ridge that made Snape's breath catch, while he stimulated the length of the penis with his hand. He played with Snape's testicles, sniffing and licking them. Finally he thought Snape might be ready to come, and he used his hand and mouth in concert.

"Harry--Harry--" Snape whispered. Harry took him deep in his throat again and swallowed, and Snape came. The come burnt at the back of Harry's throat but he swallowed anyway. It was Severus' come and the intimacy of it was really brilliant.

"All right?" Snape asked quietly. Then Harry came up the bed into Snape's arms.

"I'm glad I stopped the contest for who suffered the most in the war," Harry said.

"I played that game for a long time," Snape reflected.

"Yeah, I saw that. Not a good game to win."

"I suppose there are some advantages to you, being with someone like me."

"What do you mean, 'someone like me'? I don't think there is anyone else like you."

"I mean, someone so much older."

"Why, because you're wise?" Harry asked skeptically. "D'you think it's made me more mature?"

Snape snorted.

* * *

 

"Ron, I have to tell you something," Harry said. He had composed himself and washed his face before he brought Ron out to the back garden, where they were skipping rocks into the little fishpond that Harry had dug the previous summer.

 

"You're gay."

 

"Yeah."

 

"And you're with Snape."

 

"Yeah."

 

Ron threw a pebble at the little pond.

 

"That was a bit easier than I thought it would be." Harry muttered.

 

"That's what Hermione said, but I told her it was bollocks. But it's true."

 

"Er, yeah."

 

"He must be really brilliant in bed, because the man is a complete and utter git, even if he was on our side in the war."

 

Harry didn't say anything for a minute. "Listen, Ron," he said.

 

"But please don't tell me if he is because I like my head the way it is and I don't want it to explode, right?"

 

"I need to tell your mum about it. Because of the Rita Skeeter thing. Do you think your mum will be-- I mean, will she still..."

Ron looked at him for the first time. "I think you're completely barmy, but--you're still my best friend. You're still like my brother, right--except that I like you better than most of my brothers."

 

"But your mum--I was going to marry Ginny and then--"

 

"Harry, stop. I was willing to face You-Know-Who--Voldemort!-- with you. You want to have sex with Severus Snape, well, it's pretty weird, but you're still my best mate. You don't need to marry into my family. You're in my family."

"Thanks."

"My mum isn't going to stop liking you either."

 

"She's pretty conservative."

"You _are_ shagging a male former teacher almost twice our age." He threw another rock.

"Sure you're all right with it?"

"I didn't say I was all right with it! I said you were my friend no matter what. Okay?"

Harry breathed a little. "Yeah, okay." It would have been weird if Ron had been all right with it, just like that.

"I can bring you home to talk with my mum about it."

* * *

 

Molly was somehow even smaller than she'd been when Harry had last seen her. Her red hair was shot with threads of gray. Living alone in a flat did not agree with her. On the wall of her small kitchen, the Weasley family clock had Harry's and Fleur's names added to it, but Arthur's and Ginny's names were gone. He knew that it would be this way, but it still hurt to see it. He was grateful that Hermione and Ron were both there, too, and that he wasn't confronting this by himself--and doubly grateful that he didn't have to deal with Snape's brusque manner. He could fuck this up just fine by himself, thank you.

Harry's name was on the clock. Did that mean that Molly had known where he was all this time? How he was feeling?

"Harry," Molly said, embracing him. "I'm so relieved you're all right."

Harry flushed with embarrassment. "Mrs. Weasley, I have something important to--"

She held his arms and looked into his face. He took a deep breath. "Have you fallen in love, Harry dear? I knew you had to move on from Ginny eventually." Her eyes welled with tears, and he pulled her close to hug her. After a minute, she stepped back. "You have a right to be happy, Harry, you can't mourn forever. None of us wants that for you."

"But--the thing is, I'm--I'm gay."

Her warm smile froze a little, but then her expression softened further. "You're--you're still my little Harry, like a son to me, and if Arthur were--if he were here I know he would say the same." Hermione gave an audible sob.

"I needed to tell you before the Daily Prophet ran a story about me, or something terrible like that. Remember when we were at Hogwarts and they ran that awful story about Hermione and me? I needed to be the one to tell you." Molly patted his arm.

After a moment, she said, "Are you involved with someone? Is that how this all came about? Your name on the clock just told how you were feeling, not where you were."

"You aren't going to like this bit, Mum," Ron muttered. Hermione whacked his arm. "Well, she's not!"

Determined not to hem and haw, Harry squared his shoulders and told Molly Weasley that he was involved with Severus Snape.

She sat down heavily in a kitchen chair. "Oh," she said. "That's--I wouldn't have expected that. He's--he's so much older than you are. And we all thought he was a Dark wizard."

"Not to mention, a complete git." Ron growled.

 

"At this age, Ron, he is old enough to make his own choices," Molly said thoughtfully. "By the time I was 26, I had Bill and Charlie already."

Ron snorted. "I thought you said he was like a son to you. When do I get to be old enough to make my own choices?"

 

"But you have to finish the Healer Programme, Harry," Hermione said suddenly.

"Why?" Harry asked. She hadn't said very much in all of this.

"Because it's a healthier way of channeling your 'saving people thing'."

"Healthier than your 'adopt-a-turncoat-Deatheater' scheme, you mean," Ron said. Harry and Hermione both laughed. Then Hermione said seriously, "Well, from the outside, it hasn't seemed like the most, er, well-considered choice."

"I might not be Severus' best choice, either," Harry said.

"Oh, Harry," Molly Weasley chided.

"What I mean is, he's avoided everyone for six years, and if he stays with me he'll have to deal with a lot of, well, unpleasant attention."

"It's not half as bad as some of the things he's done up to now," Molly Weasley said tartly. Then she looked stricken. "I'm sorry Harry, I didn't mean--"

"That's more like it!" Ron crowed. His mother glared. "I remember how you felt about Fleur," Ron said. "And Severus Snape is no Fleur."

Harry snickered.

Hermione choked up again and wiped her eyes.

"Really, Hermione," Ron said under his breath, "Pull yourself together."

She pushed up the sleeve of his jumper, surreptitiously touching the skin of his forearm. But Harry saw the gesture and the way her face relaxed.

_That's how I feel. That's how it feels to have someone. It's just better when you can touch them._

* * *

 

When he got home, there was an owl waiting on the lintel above the door. The parchment on her leg read:

>   
> Send me your Patronus--one Patronus--and I'll Apparate to you.
> 
> Yours,   
> S.
> 
>  

The antlered stag was very clear and bright as it tossed its head before rushing off.

Snape appeared in his living room in Muggle clothes.

"You own a suit?" Harry was a bit surprised.

"Please. This isn't a suit, it's just a jacket and tie. I want to go out."

"Out?"

"I would like to eat in a restaurant. With you." He pronounced the word "restaurant" as though it were French.

"Oh. Like a date?"

"Yes. Precisely like a date." Snape glared. "Don't stand there staring at me, go change your clothing!"

He followed Harry up the stairs. "Where are we going?" Harry asked.

"Muggle restaurant."

"I thought so because you aren't wearing robes, but--"

"It's an Italian restaurant in the gay neighbourhood in Manchester."

"Do you like Italian food?"

"I like not being stared at by the other diners when I am at dinner. The people least likely to stare at us are gay Muggles. The restaurant had good reviews."

"You researched it."

Snape nodded, tight-lipped.

"Severus, you don't even like to go to Tesco's."

"But I do go. I can do what's required. I always have."

"This is going to be a fun date," Harry muttered. "_Accio_ tie."

Harry managed to find clothing that passed Snape's scrutiny. Snape had changed since Hogwarts; there, Harry had speculated that he wore the same robes every day, Snape seemed so indifferent to his personal hygiene. Harry could see as Snape tied his tie for him that his hair was freshly washed and his shirt collar, impeccably white.

But he was already perspiring at his hairline.

"We don't have to do this," Harry said.

"Oh, yes we most certainly do," Snape said. "We are going to this restaurant and we are going to have good time." He pushed the knot on Harry's tie into place.

"Maybe we should have sex first," Harry suggested. "Take the edge off."

Snape looked furious. "We will have sex _afterward_, not beforehand. We are going on this date, Potter, and I don't want to hear another word."

Harry took his arm, held his breath, and they Apparated.

* * *

"Snape, party of two," the maitre d' announced in a low voice. Harry and Snape were standing at the bar, drinking house red. Snape had not relaxed an iota.

They carried their wineglasses back to the table. The waiter handed them a menu; he had earrings in both ears and looked like a pirate. He smiled and winked at Snape, who rewarded him with his special brand of haughty sneer. The waiter was amused.

"Our specials tonight--" he began, and rattled off a lot of Italian names, with scattered translation into food-ese, which seemed to be mostly French.

Snape had prepared for this moment. "I'll have the filet steak," he said.

"Which one? Grilled with mushrooms and tomato?"

"Yes, thank you," Snape said smoothly. "Medium rare, with salad. What will you have, Harry?"

"Spaghetti Bolognese." It was one of the things on the menu he actually recognized.

"We'll have a carafe of the house red," Snape ordered.

The waiter brought the wine first, and some breadsticks. Snape topped off their glasses. "Never learned about Muggle wine," he confessed. "Always meant to get around to it, but I moved right from the circles where it was too posh to drink to the ones where it was too declassé, with no break."

Harry smiled. Snape was tipsy already. "I don't know the difference, myself. All I've ever had was butterbeer."

"It's not as though I would drink in the house all alone, you know."

"Of course not."

"Dangerous habit." He scowled, as though Harry had suggested it.

The waiter came with their meal. He looked like he was going to chuck Snape under the chin; he was beaming like scowling Snape was an adorable child.

A thought floated into Harry's slightly winey consciousness: the waiter was flirting with Snape! _Good luck, mate!_ he thought. Then he became a little annoyed. Snape was his--whatever he was.

He reached across the table and grasped Snape's hand, and squeezed it. That was better. Fuck the waiter and fuck Rita Skeeter, too.

Snape looked at their hands, but didn't pull away. Harry released him, and he just sat there for a moment. Then he picked up his glass and took a swallow. He looked at Harry over the rim of his glass, a speculative look--a smouldering look.

Harry's face heated. All right, he'd admit it, their relationship was all about what they did in bed. Apparently Snape could bring what they did in bed out to dinner. Harry drank a little more wine. He realized he'd better eat.

Snape systematically dismembered his steak into impeccably even cubes with a knife and fork as Harry sat looking at his spaghetti. How did you eat this and not get it on your tie? He began to eat the meaty bits off the top, in little bites. Was he meant to cut up the pasta? Twirl it on his fork? Which was polite?

Snape was snickering at him.

"Good, so we are having fun then," Harry muttered, bending his head to his dish. He'd try twirling it, but just a little or perhaps the sauce would fly everywhere?

The waiter appeared at his elbow. "In Bologna, they twirl the pasta against a soup spoon," he said quietly, slipping the implement to Harry. Somehow Harry doubted this, but he planned to personally leave the man a large tip. Lucky for him he had Muggle money in the wallet in his trouser pocket.

They ate and drank. Finally Snape asked, "Did you go to see Molly Weasley today?"

Harry nodded. Snape looked expectant.

"She didn't disown me, if that's what you're thinking," Harry said. "I mean, not that she had adopted me or anything."

"I'm sure she wasn't pleased," Snape said.

"She would have acted more upset if it were one of the Weasleys," Harry admitted. "She's always been a little kinder to me than to her own children because she felt sorry that I had no mother."

Snape's features flickered with a sad look before they resolved to blankness. A person who hadn't played Seeker on a Quidditch team would surely have missed it.

"She said I am old enough to make my own decisions," Harry said.

Snape snorted. "A ringing endorsement."

"But then she and Hermione pestered me for an hour about going back to the emergency healer programme."

"They are correct, of course," Snape said. "You have surprising talent in that area that shouldn't be wasted."

Maybe Snape was more affected by the wine than he appeared. It was the kindest thing he'd said to Harry when he wasn't under the influence of a potion. Harry flushed with pleasure. Snape had way too much power over him; it was a good thing he didn't know what it was, or Harry would be in big trouble. If he had praised him even once when he was at school, Harry would have been his for the asking.

That was a disturbingly compelling image. He licked his lips, and then saw that Snape was looking at his mouth.

Snape looked around for the waiter and signalled for the bill.

* * *

 

Snape Apparated them back to his house in Spinner's End. They were both a bit drunk. Snape was singing. He was terrible. Harry was laughing. They got as far as the living room before they had to have a snog.

"I could get used to this," Snape muttered.

"Good," Harry replied. "Get used to it."

But then he couldn't speak because Snape had taken his earlobe in his teeth. "Ah," he sighed, and squirmed, thrusting forward with his hips.

"Bed," Snape said. "I want to go to bed with you."

"Whatever you want--"

"I want you to fuck me into the mattress."

"Yes, I can do that." Harry's voice came out lower than usual, matching Snape's confidential tone. He groaned as Snape ran his hands down his chest under his jacket, thumbs grazing his nipples through his shirt and vest.

"Upstairs," Snape said. On the way up, they stopped on the landing so that Snape could push Harry against the wall. He was everywhere, licking Harry's neck, licking his ear, grasping his buttocks. Then he pulled back, saying "Bed," again, Harry following him with his mouth.

Down the dark hallway they lurched, stopping to grope and touch. Harry was very hard and panting by the time they fell onto the bed. Snape Banished their clothing; Harry felt neither worry nor regret that he might have willed it all out of existence again.

Snape lay on his back and parted his legs, and Harry licked everywhere he could--the deep navel, the rampant red cock, the testicles pulled up, the black body hair against the pale sallow skin. He pulled Snape's buttocks up and licked his arse, enjoying the deep groans, feeling the tight muscle relax under his tongue. He did it until Snape began to beg him to fuck him already, Potter.

He grabbed the bottle of lube they had by the bed and slathered his cock with it and pushed in slow, feeling the tightness and the heat of Snape's arse, leaning against the backs of his wiry thighs. Snape's bony legs rested on Harry's shoulders and every thrust wrung a low grunt from him.

Harry's hand was still coated with lube, and he began to pull Snape's prick with each thrust in. Doing this was the only way he could ensure that he didn't come first. He had to concentrate too hard. Still it was building inside him, the need to come. With each push, Snape squeezed him, groaned, twitched, writhed. With each push, Snape was further open, more vulnerable, more his.

Then Snape tumbled over the edge and was coming, with just one cry--his cock spurting, his muscles clenching Harry's cock, his face unguarded--and Harry was there too, thrusting mindlessly, holding on to Snape's legs, shivering, letting go.

He hung there for a moment, heart pounding, and then Snape rearranged them quickly--pulling out Harry's cock with a pop, lowering his legs, pulling Harry down to him on the bed. Harry was in the other man's arms, head on his sweaty, hairy chest, listening to his pulse. He was still shuddering a little from the intensity of it.

"Shh, Harry, shh," Snape said, "We'll be vile in the morning, we have to get up and wash," but his heavy hand on Harry's hair was slowing. Harry was happy to be sticky with Snape's come, sleepy in a bed of sex, naked under a sheet with Severus Snape. Snape used a spell to clean them and kept stroking Harry's hair, pushing away bad dreams, until they were both asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is the last in the Blue Tranquilium series. I had a lot of help and encouragement from [](http://rexluscus.livejournal.com/profile)[**rexluscus**](http://rexluscus.livejournal.com/) and beta reading from [](http://stasia.livejournal.com/profile)[**stasia**](http://stasia.livejournal.com/) and [](http://sscrewdriver.livejournal.com/profile)[**sscrewdriver**](http://sscrewdriver.livejournal.com/). Any errors that remain are my responsibility.


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